


Right Here, Not Goin' Nowhere

by Saraste



Series: 30 Days OTP Challenge [24]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of near-death experience, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn had, as ever, let him. He always let Daryl do it. Never grumbled, never batted his hands away. Always indulged him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Here, Not Goin' Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for prompt #24 making up afterwards for the 30 day otp challenge. 
> 
> It's a companion piece to [Never Do That Again](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1117623).

After what seems like forever Glenn is finally bathed, nourished and rested.

 

There ain't anything more that needs to be done, that Daryl needs to do to make sure Glenn is fine, except for one thing. He had already stolen kisses as he had washed Glenn free of grime and blood, as he had made sure, with fingers roaming all over water slick skin, that there really wasn't a single bite-mark on Glenn's body. Daryl had known that there hadn't been, had trusted Glenn's assurances that there weren't any, but had had to see for himself, for his own peace of mind.

 

Glenn had, as ever, let him. He always let Daryl do it. Never grumbled, never batted his hands away. Always indulged him.

 

Daryl was rather sure that he wouldn't have been able to be so calm and accepting, so pliant.

 

Later, when Glenn had slept the worst of it off, Daryl curled around his sleeping body, hands holding on, like Glenn could still evaporate on the spot, the boy wakes up slowly. Glenn often berates Daryl for calling him a boy because he isn't, hasn't been for many years now, and Daryl isn't that much older than him.

 

The only times he doesn't grumble are when it's in the heat of the moment, in a state of arousal, in the process of slaking that arousal, making the both of them into boneless masses of sated lust, when they fuck and come and reach the delicious little death of orgasm.

 

It's Glenn sliding easily into Daryl, eased by the last of their lube, which matters not because Glenn has some more in his backpack, that eases the ache in Daryl, makes him say the words that were on his tongue before. He murmurs them into Glenn's naked shoulder as he takes and surrenders, as he lets himself be comforted by the steady assuring pace of Glenn in him and Glenn knows. He knows. The words are ever the same, these words of worry, of Daryl's fears, not unfounded.

 

Daryl doesn't want to see Glenn dead.

 

Daryl doesn't want to have to be the one to put Glenn down.

 

Glenn can't do things like this to Daryl.

 

The words go on, becoming more strangled and garbled the closer Daryl is to losing it, to screaming Glenn's name so loud that if their group didn't know what they were up to during their nights together, there would be no mistake after this time. Daryl clings to Glenn, letting himself go, coming at the thought and feel of Glenn inside his body, the presence of him real and visceral, screaming his name like a benediction.

 

“Right here,” Glenn murmurs into the sweaty skin of his neck, kissing his pulse, thrusting into him gently, shuddering as Daryl's body grips him tight, “right here, not goin' anywhere,” he murmurs words which both of them know he can keep, saying them anyway.

 

Maybe they are lies, maybe they won't happen, maybe Daryl or Glenn will have to do that which both of them fear the most yet, in this moment, this hazy half-conscious moment of languid post-coital contentment, it might be the truth or, at least, something both need to hear.

 


End file.
